Chapter Six

Consciousness began to return, along with a sense of pain that traveled down his left arm. Slowly his gray eyes opened, taking in the sight of the grass that was right in his face. He was laying on his side on the ground, blood streaming down his arm from a wound near his shoulder. It was not serious, but for Heaven's sake, it hurt!

Alister growled to himself, forcing his lanky body to get into a sitting position. His head hurt too. He remembered being knocked unconscious by a bit of falling debris from the collapsing palace. And now he feared for his comrades. Were they hurt too? Had some of them even, perhaps, been killed?

Shakily he stood, forcing himself not to think of it. He stumbled ahead, placing a handkerchief over the wound on his arm, and looking around for the others. He did not see much sense in calling out for them. If they were awake and alive, they could not be too far away. And there was the possibility that some of their enemies were still lurking about. If so, the last thing Alister wanted to do was call out and draw attention to himself. Besides, if the others were unconscious, calling to him would not do any good anyway.

Blood was splattered on the grass, as well as broken marble from the demolished palace. Alister gave the building a cursory glance as he turned the corner. He doubted that it would be repaired anytime soon—if repairing it was even an option.

A far-off flash of lightning flickered, sending a bit of a glow upon one of the fallen inner pillars—the ones that were not as thick or heavy as the ones on the outside, but still deadly enough. Alister's eyes widened when he realized there was a body trapped underneath it. Quickly he hastened over, then dropped to his knees beside the muscular form. It was Raphael. He was laying on his back, his cerulean eyes closed and his hands limply gripping the pillar, as if trying to get it off. He was very still.

Alister's own eyes narrowed. Was he . . . dead? And even if he was not, was he hurt too badly to be able to survive much longer? . . . Would Alister even be able to remove the pillar? Shakily the redhead bent down, trying to hear if Raphael was breathing. It seemed to him as if he was, but then again, he could not be sure. But he stood up, straining to lift one end of the pillar and shove the thing away. His wounded arm protested, though Alister ignored it—but he soon came to the conclusion that he simply was not strong enough to free his friend. He needed someone to help him.

"Mr. Mackenzie?"

Immediately Alister looked up at the sound of the deep, formal voice. Rishid was standing over him, looking deeply concerned and sympathetic. He was bleeding from a head wound and his clothes were ripped and torn, but otherwise he seemed to be alright. "May I be of assistance?" he asked now, moving to help with the pillar. Alister just nodded gratefully and they fell to struggling with the offensive object, at last getting it upright and then pushing it away from all of them.

"Thank you," Alister said quietly as he dropped back to his knees, feeling along Raphael's chest for broken ribs. It was possible, he knew, that Raphael had managed to catch the pillar in his hands but then had fallen and gotten trapped under it anyway because of his wounded leg. If that had happened, perhaps he would not have gotten too horribly injured. As it was, Alister could not seem to find that any ribs were broken. And to his relief, Raphael was definitely breathing. Perhaps he was unconscious mainly because he had struck his head on a rock or something else hard.

Quickly Alister went to the nearby pond, dampening a cloth and bringing it back. He brushed it gently over Raphael's forehead in hopes of reviving him and then began tending to the man's wounds. "Are your brother and sister safe?" he asked Rishid quietly. He knew how horrible it was to lose siblings. He did not want someone else to suffer now as he had years before.

Though, he realized, Mokuba would have suffered greatly if Alister had managed to defeat Seto during Doom. It pained the redhead to think of it now. He had thought he was fighting for justice and to rid the world of an evil tyrant, but he had been so misguided and wrong. And actually, when he thought about it, he blamed himself for his brother's death more deeply than he blamed anyone else. Even during Doom, that had been the way it was.

"Yes," Rishid said with a nod. "They are helping the Kaibas. Seto, I am afraid, was shot by an arrow during the battle—though he is expected to fully recover. I came to see if you and your friends were safe." He paused before adding that he had not been able to find Valon anywhere. This concerned him, as it concerned Alister as well. Valon could have been buried somewhere by the debris, though they hated to think it. Or something else could have happened to him. He might not be alive, whatever the circumstances.

But Alister did not want to think about that right now. His eyes narrowed in concern for the missing Australian as he worked at tying a makeshift bandage over the wound on Raphael's leg. Valon would turn up, he tried to convince himself, and he would be fine. He was always fine.

Rishid watched the younger man carefully work to help his friend. Raphael would probably be alright, the Egyptian determined. And he was so very grateful that Marik and Ishizu had not been seriously injured during the battle. Marik was sporting several bad cuts and bruises, and Ishizu had been grazed by an arrow as well, but they were both going to be fine. As for Mokuba, he had managed to remain mostly unscathed, save for several bruises and scrapes sustained when he had fallen down the stairs. Marik was working at the moment to remove the arrow Seto had been pierced with, but when Rishid had left, it had seemed to be coming out nicely.

He thought back to Sapphire's words spoken upon their collective arrival in the palace, and then after she had experienced one of her painful headaches. She had been so weakened and drained then that Marik had been alarmed wondering if there was a chance that she would die, leaving Kade behind. But she had been firm that she would survive . . . if Colchis and his new allies were stopped.

Marik had vowed that he would make certain it came to pass. He was not going to have poor Kade be left without his mother. His father had already been taken from him years before, and then there had been the experience when Kade had seen Marik supposedly dead. Afterwords, the child had been unwilling to believe what he had seen, and he had been convinced that Marik would come back. That miracle had come to pass, but such things would not happen every time, nor to everyone.

"We can't stay here."

Alister's voice brought Rishid back to the present. And he knew the redhead was right.

"Sapphire spoke of a home she has up in the mountains," Rishid said quietly. "We must travel there with our party." The royal carriages, pulled by the flying Kioli, would be able to take them. The Kioli had fled during the fight, carriages and all, but Sapphire had the means to summon them back. Certainly the little group would not be able to walk all that way, especially with their wounded, so the Kioli would be a great blessing.

Alister felt dizzy. He could not leave, not without finding Valon first. But Raphael and Seto, especially, needed to get somewhere to rest. They could not wait while Alister searched. "Take the wounded and go," he said at last. "I'm staying." He would look everywhere he could for the spunky Australian. He had to be somewhere, after all! He could not have just vanished into nothing.

Rishid frowned as he studied the spare, trim man. "You should not be here alone," he retorted. "There is no telling what could happen." And what was more, Alister would likely have trouble moving some of the heaviest debris. Rishid was certain that the reason Alister wanted to remain was because he wanted to look for Valon. And Rishid most certainly agreed. He could never dream of abandoning Marik or Ishizu.

"I'll be fine," Alister retorted. But he knew it could be dangerous. It was possible that they were being spied on by more of their enemies. If Alister was here alone, and did happen to find Valon, they could both end up in trouble. Still, he did not want to impose on Rishid. The Egyptian had his own siblings to look out for.

"Rishid! Rishid!"

Both men looked up as Marik came running over, Kade held close in his arms. The lavender-eyed boy stopped short at the scene before him, gasping at the sight of Raphael laying so still. The muscular biker had not stirred at all, prompting Alister to be concerned that maybe he was hurt worse than it appeared.

Kade looked over as well, blinking worried blue eyes. "Did he go away?" he asked, gripping a handful of Marik's shirt.

Alister smiled gently at the child's innocence. "No," he replied, his voice softening, "but he's hurt. We need to take him somewhere safe." He felt through Raphael's hair carefully, searching for any kind of bump or tender spot.

Marik swallowed. "Yes," he said softly. "Sapphire is summoning the Kioli right now, but we won't be able to dawdle about. Kaiba needs medical attention, and it looks like Raphael does as well." But he could see that someone was still missing. And the remaining, conscious biker would never abandon his friend. Alister would stay until he found Valon . . . or some indication of what had happened to him.

"Go with them, Marik," Rishid said at last. "I will remain a while longer and assist Mr. Mackenzie in searching for his friend." Neither of his siblings were badly hurt, and Rishid was confident that they would get to the new location safely. But Valon, being unaccounted for, could be in serious trouble. At least the Ishtars were somewhat familiar with the many dangers in Juno. Valon and his friends—and the Kaibas—really did not know and were only finding out now.

Marik bit his lip, not really wanting to leave Rishid and Alister here alone but knowing that he did need to get the wounded—and the children—to safety. Surely all would be well. . . . He had to believe it would be. "Alright," he agreed at last, though he still felt uneasy. "But please, Rishid. . . . Be careful." His voice came out in a choked whisper.

Rishid smiled kindly. "We will be, my brother—as, I hope, you will be as well."

Marik nodded before hurrying off with Kade to return to the others. It was not long before the Kiolis, with their carriages, could be seen in the sky. Alister looked up at them, hoping they would be safe, and then returned to the task at hand.


Sapphire's mountain home was beautiful. It was made of marble, as was the palace, and on clear days it sparkled and could be seen from afar when one was traveling through the sky. Even now, when it was all so clouded over, its splendor could not be hidden. As the Kioli pulled their carriages through the clouds, the structure suddenly came into view. Kade exclaimed in delight, while Mokuba blinked and stared. He had not thought that a place such as this could be built on top of a mountain. But soon his mind wandered again. He could not concentrate. He was too worried about Seto.

Marik noticed this. Gently he laid a hand on the child's shoulder. "Your brother will be fine," he said firmly. "The arrow didn't seem to have pierced anything vital." And yet he knew that there was still danger. Seto could have lost a lot of blood. There was not any way for them to know that for certain until they got into the home and the surviving doctor would be able to examine him.

"Yeah," Mokuba said quietly, biting his lip. He looked to where Seto was laying in the back of the carriage. The older boy's eyes were closed, but Mokuba could not tell whether he was asleep or unconscious. At least he was breathing evenly.

The child looked up at Marik. "I didn't see it happen," he said now. "After the explosion, everyone was running around, and people were laying all over . . . and there was blood. . . ." Tears filled his eyes. "I looked all around for Seto, but I couldn't find him. . . . Then . . . then that Volker guy came and told me Seto had been shot. . . ." Mokuba's world had frozen in that moment, and he had feared so greatly for his brother's life. Even after following Volker and finding that Seto was still alive—and conscious at the time—his worries had not quieted. Mokuba had read a lot of fantasy and mystery books, and he wondered if the arrowhead could have been poisoned. He tried to convince himself that he was just coming up with the most unlikely, worst case scenario, but that did not make the thoughts go away.

Marik pulled his friend close as the carriage began to descend onto the summer home's grounds. "We've both had times like that," he replied, recalling the time when he had found Ishizu laying injured on the ground after she had been struck by a car. He had felt so confused and helpless, and it was obvious that Mokuba felt that way now.

Mokuba hugged Marik tightly, letting the tears slip free. Perhaps Seto had been right, he thought, and they should not have come. What good could they do, when there were so many who would be against them? They were so few. . . . Suddenly the entire quest seemed so very bleak.

"We've landed," Marik announced softly after a moment.

Mokuba looked up, seeing that they, indeed, touched the ground. Now they needed to get the wounded inside. Volker and the doctor were coming to lift Seto down first, as he seemed to be the most critically injured. Swallowing hard, Mokuba climbed down from the carriage. He watched them lift Seto out and then followed them to the building.

Marik watched them go, then climbed down to help lift Raphael out. Two of the other palace survivors came to assist. As they worked, Marik had to wonder what had happened to poor Valon. He hoped that the Australian had not been crushed in the collapsing building, but then again, being taken captive would most likely be an even worse fate.


Sensation settled over him slowly. He felt sore all over, though he was laying on something soft. When he managed to open his eyes and discovered that he was in a bed of exquisite design and comfort, he fancied for a moment that he was back in France with his family. Sonia was bouncing on the bed, wanting him to get up and play with her. Julien was waiting patiently on the other side, grinning widely. Their parents were downstairs, having breakfast and enjoying each other's company. . . . But no. It was all a fantasy. His family, his biological family, was dead. He sighed quietly to himself, trying to remember what was really happening.

"Raphael?"

He directed his gaze toward the sound of the voice questioningly and found himself staring into concerned, gray orbs. Alister was here. And now Raphael remembered. He still had his adopted family.

"What happened?" he managed to ask, still trying to remember. There was some sort of battle . . . and heavy objects were falling down. . . .

Alister, who had been sitting on a chair, now moved to the edge of the bed. He was holding something in his hands, but Raphael could not make out what it was. Alister seemed . . . distressed, somehow—though he tried to hide it behind his facade. "A pillar fell on you," he replied then. "You're just lucky you weren't killed instantly and that nothing was broken. Apparently you managed to catch the column as it was falling on you. But you weren't able to throw it away nor to stay standing upright. Sapphire said you sustained a mild concussion somehow. You've been unconscious for quite a few hours."

Raphael frowned. Now that Alister spoke of it, he did seem to remember somewhat, back in his mind. He remembered it had also been hard to breathe and that he had gasped for air as he had felt oblivion descending over him. But it still was not very clear to him.

What was clear was that Valon was not here. And this disturbed Raphael greatly. He could imagine the Australian, who was so enthusiastic sometimes, coming and plopping on the bed, happy that Raphael was awake. But Alister was alone. Raphael looked at him, asking where Valon was. He wondered if he truly wanted to know, and yet he knew that whatever the truth was, he would want to be aware of it.

Alister's eyes took on a darkness. "I don't know," he replied. "I have my suspicions, but nothing definite. Marik's brother and I searched for him for hours, but we never found him. He might still be buried in debris somewhere, but more likely . . . he was taken prisoner. This is all I found." With that he held up what he had been clutching in his hands and Raphael drew in a breath sharply.

Alister was holding Valon's goggles, which were dripping with blood.


Dartz looked down at the wounded teenager, his golden eyes narrowed grimly. The boy's eyes were wide open, gazing up blankly at the ceiling. His hands were curled, as if trying to grip the slab upon which he was laid. Obviously he was in excruciating pain, though he was not fully aware of anything. Blood was coming from a serious wound in his chest, and from other, smaller injuries in his flesh.

It seemed strange, Dartz decided, to see the defiant, strong-willed, independently-minded Valon laying in such agony. The Australian had resisted anyone and everyone, even Dartz himself. Dartz knew that the main reason why Valon had joined Doom was because he had not had anywhere else to go. And most likely any alternative had seemed better to him than remaining in prison, where he had been cruelly and inhumanely treated more than once. But Valon had always managed to pick himself up after such defeats. This time he was not able to.

"Are you planning to help him, or are you intending to let him bleed to death?" Dartz wanted to know, hearing the rebels snickering quietly in the shadows of the room. It revolted him when he saw those who reveled in watching the torment of others, and it stirred up old feelings of wanting the world to be purified. He wished that someone who was truly ordained for that purpose would step forward to do so. He certainly had not been the right one, even though he had honestly believed himself to be.

"We'll help him," came the smirking reply. "But we'll also turn him to our side."

A third person, whom Dartz recognized as a doctor, entered the room. He pushed past the Atlantean and went to Valon, looking him over. Then he placed a hand over the teen's eyes, closing them as he spoke quietly in what Dartz vaguely understood to be Celtic. Valon shuddered, moaning softly, and then went still.

The doctor smiled. "I've put him to sleep," he announced, "but he can still hear us, through a haze. When he wakes, he'll remember whatever I've told him to." With that he crossed to a sink, cleansed his hands, and then picked up his medical tools. As he came back over, he spoke to Valon again—this time in English—and began to work on the wounds. The two rebels stood to the side, smirking victoriously.

Dartz was disgusted. The doctor was whispering lies to Valon, telling him that his friends had betrayed him. Had Valon not seen them do it? Of course he had! Alister had walked right by him, when Valon had been pleading for help. And Raphael had ignored him too. Valon was all alone, the way he had always been.

You fool! Dartz yelled silently at the physician. Can't you see that you are going to destroy these lives and hearts that have already been broken countless times in the past? Can't you see that you are drinking damnation to your soul? He clenched a fist subconsciously. Can't you see, he murmured, that you are just like me? He could only hope that Valon would be able to resist this form of brainwashing that was being forced upon him—but in the boy's current state, he was not certain that it was likely. And undoubtedly, that was why they were doing this. Valon was too weakened to resist the hypnotism.

Dartz was torn over what to do. In good conscience, he could not stand by and watch this cruelty, but if he spoke against it he might be exposed as a spy. Or did they already suspect that?

He turned to look at the rebels. "You said earlier that I wasn't supposed to know about the attack," he said slowly. "Why was that?" He frowned. "Colchis and I were working together to organize your rebellion."

The tall one sneered. "Lord Colchis has been getting right wary of you," he laughed.

Dartz narrowed his eyes. "And why is that?" Again his thoughts turned to Alexander, and he wondered if the creature was alright. What if Colchis had used some local beings to attack and overpower Alexander? Maybe Colchis had learned, against the doppelganger's free will, that Alexander was connected with Dartz. If he had been suspicious before, learning something like that would make it worse.

"Well," the young man answered lazily, "you haven't been seen around these parts before. In fact, the first time anyone saw you was only several weeks ago, right before the Talisman vanished. Colchis wondered if you knew it was going to happen and came deliberately to get your hands on it. Almost as soon as you settled in, you found Colchis and said that you wanted to get involved in his plans for creating a rebel army." He came closer to Dartz, studying him with his dark, piercing eyes.

Dartz was unintimidated. Over the millennia he had met many such people, and it did not seem to be anything to get concerned over. After all, he had seen more than all of these people combined, and he had stared into the face of pure evil many times. This person was certainly nothing to fear in comparison.

"I have been a traveler for many centuries," he answered honestly. "I have been to many lands on every continent of this world. Only recently did I find my way here. It certainly had nothing to do with the Talisman." His eyes narrowed. "I want to rebuild Juno. I couldn't care less about that bauble that Colchis is so terribly entranced with."

The other dissenter turned to look at him now. "Oh?" he said, sounding surprised. "But having it would be the best way to rebuild Juno. The one who controls it wields unlimited amounts of power. It's just what we need to be able to overthrow Queen Sapphire and take over the land." He was shorter and stouter than the first, and a long scar went across his left cheek. Wild blonde bangs tickled his brow and nearly concealed his hazel eyes from view, but Dartz could still see them shining out.

"Yes," Dartz said, "but that's only if someone could control it. What's more likely is that the Talisman itself would only give its power to whom it wanted. Perhaps it would even fool someone into thinking that they were in control of it when they actually were not. Most likely it would destroy them in the end."

He looked back to where the doctor was mending Valon's worst wounds. The boy still seemed to be deeply unconscious, and the physician apparently saw no reason to even use a local anesthesia while he worked. The Atlantean wondered what Valon would be like upon awakening, and what the purpose of this exercise truly was. They certainly did not need any additions to their army. No, their reason for taking Valon must be much more dark and sinister.

"It seems to me," Dartz mused slowly, "that Colchis must have some other reason for not completely trusting me. After all, I'm sure that he doesn't trust anyone where matters of the Talisman are concerned."

The first rebel laughed again. "You're right," he agreed. "He doesn't trust us either. And he probably does have some other reason for being suspicious of you. But tell us this—does he have a reason to be?"

Dartz narrowed his eyes. "No, I wouldn't say so. I haven't done anything to go against Colchis's trust since my arrival."

The second revolutionary smiled. "Then you really don't have anything to worry about," he said calmly. "I'm sure Lord Colchis will reveal his reasons and see that he was wrong."

Dartz nodded vaguely. "Tell me," he spoke after a brief silence, "why did you want this boy here?" He had to stop himself before saying Valon's name. After all, it certainly would not do for them to know that he had any sort of connection with this prisoner. "Are you planning to use him to barter with your enemies?"

A wicked laugh was his answer. "That's too trivial," the tall rebel exclaimed. "If we were going to do that, we wouldn't need to go through this brainwashing. No, we took the kid in order to break the others' spirits. When we're done with him, he'll be convinced that his friends abandoned him and he won't want anything to do with them—unless it's to beat them up or something like that."

Dartz's lip curled in revulsion. "There are other ways to break their spirits," he retorted. "Aren't you going to a lot of trouble?"

"Not at all," said the first. "The more their spirits are broken, the easier it will be to destroy them when we come for the ultimate battle. The one today was merely practice."

"On the other hand, maybe you will only make their resolve stronger," Dartz answered flatly. "Maybe they will not want to see you win, especially after what you've done to their friend, and they will fight you more viciously than you could imagine." In fact, that was probably what would happen. He knew that his former warriors had grown very close to each other. They would not take this lightly.

"Of course, of course," came Colchis's voice from the doorway, and everyone—save the physician—turned. "But this boy will be fighting on our side, so they'll have to be careful about any attacks they might launch. They might hit him without meaning to." The wicked man sneered. "So I suppose you could say it's a form of bartering with the enemy, as you deduced, my friend." He was twirling something around in his hand, but he was still in the shadows and Dartz could not see what it was.

Dartz's eyes narrowed. "How long have you been listening to this conversation?" he wanted to know. He had actually not expected Colchis to be here. He had assumed that the greedy ruler-hopeful would be out scouring the land for the Talisman. Or could he already have found it?

"Long enough," Colchis grinned. "Anyway, a curious thing happened to me earlier and I wondered if you had any idea what this is." He held out the object in his hand, and Dartz could see that it was a very large feather, almost two-thirds of a foot in length. Its color was white, but a red substance was dripping off of it.

Dartz felt his blood run cold, but he knew that he could not show any unusual signs of acknowledgment. "It's a feather," he said dryly, "maybe from an unusually large bird or even a Kioli." Many thoughts crashed over in his mind as he gazed at the downy article. He was certain that he did know where it had come from. Was Alexander only wounded, or was he dead? Could the feather possibly have just fallen from his wing and he was unharmed? But then, what would account for the blood?

"Yes," Colchis agreed with a strange smile, "that's what one would think, wouldn't they." He tossed the feather onto the floor. "Well, it just so happens that I was being shadowed by a strange young man with wings. I didn't realize he was following me at first, but it became obvious after a while, when he continued to fly wherever I went. I tried to shoot it down, but it got away—not unscathed, however, as you can see." He crossed his arms. "Mind you, I wasn't shooting to kill. I wanted to know where he had come from and why he was tailing me. Then I thought that maybe I shouldn't look any further than my wonderful, trustworthy ally." These words he spoke in an obviously mocking tone.

Dartz raised an eyebrow at him. "And why would you think that I would know anything about such a thing?" he asked. He was surprised at how much it actually hurt him now to call Alexander a "thing." Terms such as that and "creature" bothered him, after having let the doppelganger stay with him for so long. The thought of losing Alexander seemed unthinkable now. He had started to take for granted that the adoring, childlike entity would always be around, snuggling him and just basically wanting to love and be loved. Now for the first time, he was faced with the possibility of Alexander being dead. Even if Colchis had not been "shooting to kill," it may have happened anyway. Alexander could not feel physical pain, and therefore, he most likely would not realize if he was seriously wounded.

Colchis shrugged. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "Maybe simply the fact that it seems as though I've seen the creature in your window sometimes." It did not bother him to admit that he had been spying on Dartz. Now was as good a time as any to let him know that he was under suspicion. And anyway, it seemed as though his rebels had already revealed that much.

"Oh really," Dartz answered coldly. "Well, you must have been mistaken. Even if I had such an entity, I wouldn't be using it to follow you."

"Let's hope so, my friend," Colchis said smoothly. "Let's hope so. Though, such a thing would make a good pet, wouldn't you say?" He laughed wickedly as Dartz turned away, feeling a certain anger boil in his soul.


Kade was roaming happily around the summer home's grounds. Sapphire had thought it would be a good idea for him to be able to play outside, especially since the flowers and foliage on this high mountain peak were still unspoiled. It was one of the only locations in all of Juno where this was the case (as a few of the sun's rays still reached it), and it would probably not be that way for much longer.

But of course Sapphire did not want her son to be out by himself, when the rebels were at large on the ground. At any time, they could decide to march up the mountain—though she did believe that they would wait a while before attacking again. If nothing else, they would need time to recover after their own injuries. And so Marik had volunteered to take Kade around the area for a while.

At this point, Kade had wandered ahead and around a corner to look at some of the flowers and the long grass, which he had not seen for what seemed like an eternity. As he walked along, he suddenly came upon a strange thing laying in the grass. He had never seen anything like it before, and now he hurried over to investigate further, his blue eyes wide with fascination. Quickly he plopped down, petting the softness and giggling softly. It felt so nice. . . .

"Kade?" he could hear Marik calling. "Where are you?"

He looked up. "I'm over here!" he smiled. "I found a birdie!"